The Catch-22 Matter
by RowdyClara
Summary: INCOMPLETE: A stampede, a lost and found love, renegade Indians, ransomed townspeople. Adventure and danger await the drovers; as well as, Secret Service Agents James West and Artemus Gordon.Please review and critique! [This story was previously entitled, "The Incident of the Night of the Catch-22]
1. Chapter 1

Rawhide / Wild Wild West crossover

Incident of the Night of the Catch-22

Note: 'Catch-22' means a no-win or hopeless situation. For example, there's a problem, then you try to fix that problem, then another problem comes from that one, then your try to fix that one, and then it takes you back to the original problem and so on.

Chapter 1

Rowdy Yates opened his eyes to a world of darkness and rock. What had happened? He groaned as renewed pain tore through his body. It shot up and down his legs and a gasp of pain escaped from his lips. He lifted his head saw that his legs were buried beneath a heap of rocks. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes against the pain. He remembered now. He had volunteered to scout around with Pete to look for a way to get the steers through the canyon. The herd had stampeded when person or persons unknown had set off a charge of dynamite nearby. No one had bothered to look for the culprit as they had been too busy trying to turn the herd. They were finally able to stop the herd when they had entered a small valley surrounded by rocks walls and canyons. There were several canyons and some were bound to have dead ends. The steers had stampeded too far for them to turn back now and waste precious time.

That was when Gil Favor, the trail boss, had asked for someone to volunteer to help Pete scout out the area. Rowdy had volunteered and they had mounted their horses and set off together. Rowdy had went on ahead at Pete's suggestion. He would scout around the canyon walls while Pete had a look farther in the valley. They agreed to meet at a large oak tree near the southern side of the valley.

Rowdy was just about to go back to the oak tree to meet Pete when he had noticed a sort of crack in the rock. It was well-hidden and he had almost passed it up. It was large enough so that one man could squeeze through, though it looked as though the path widened the farther you went. Overcome by curiosity and with time to kill, Rowdy had dismounted and found that he was right in his suspicions. The path eventually had led to a small, circle clearing and a large cave. With still more time on his hands, he had entered the cave to take a peek. That had been his first mistake. The second was going farther inside after discovering a torch and some matches.

He had just decided to turn back, not wanting to become lost in the tunnel's twists and turns, when it happened. An explosion had rocked the earth beneath his feet and then the rocks had started falling; the tunnel caving in around him. Then he had blacked out. A lump on the back of his head ached terribly; presumably from a falling rock and the reason he had blacked out.

He had no way of knowing how much time had passed since the cave-in nor if Pete would come looking for him. He himself had almost missed finding the fissure in the canyon wall. What if nobody could find him? _No! I've got to keep hope._ Maybe Fox found his way back to camp. There was a chance that the horse might lead help back to his master.

He sighed and even that slight movement caused him agony. It was possible that he could have a cracked or broken rib. Or it could be a bruise. Trying to sit up was almost unbearable but he finally made it. He panted from the exhaustion and the agony that plagued his body in doing so. Perspiration poured down his face; mixing with the blood and making the cuts on his face sting. After resting a few more minutes, he tried to move some of the rocks off of his legs. He found that the attempt was useless. The rocks had come down over his legs, blocking the exit and leaving too much debris on his legs for him alone to move. He called out for help a couple of times but soon gave up the attempt.

He slowly let himself back down again from his sitting position and lay on the hard, cold floor of the tunnel. He lay there in misery; hoping, praying that someone would find him….

Pete Nolan twisted in his saddle and scanned the area around him. _Where is Rowdy? I told him we'd meet here._ He shook his head and gazed up at the large oak tree. The scout had waited here for over two hours for the ramrod to show up. It was highly possible that Rowdy had forgotten about their agreement and headed straight back to camp instead of waiting at the appointed meeting place. But Pete wanted to be sure.

He waited for about a half hour longer then decided that Rowdy must have returned to camp. A quick look at the sun told him the time was nearing 6 o'clock. Early on, even before he had considered scouting for a cattle drive as a career, his father had taught him how to tell the time by looking at the sun. The first thing he was taught, was when the sun was directly above him it was 12 noon or near that. By just estimating, he was able to figure out the rest.

With a quick squeeze of his legs, he urged Spot into a canter toward the center of the valley where the drovers had set up camp. He saw the smoke and scented Wishbone's stew before he spotted the camp itself. The herd was exhausted after the run they had taken and had bedded down early.

Pete was surprised to see Gil Favor gallop toward him - and leading a riderless, Fox. Rowdy's sorrel gelding. He trotted his horse halfway to meet the trail boss. Gil Favor wore a confused expression on his usually firm features. Pete trotted his horse forward to meet the trail boss halfway. Gil Favor peered over Pete's shoulder. "Where's Rowdy?" He asked when they halted their mounts.

Pete shook his head. "I don't know, Boss. I thought he mighta come on back to camp ahead of me. We were supposed to meet at an old oak tree back there." He turned in his saddle and motioned behind him. "I waited almost three hours and he didn't show."

"He'll probably show up later. Could be he got careless and Fox got away from him." Gil Favor stated. It was possible, but both men knew that Rowdy was an excellent rider. They had seen him in action too many times to think otherwise. Fox was a spirited horse but Rowdy was equally spirited and determined.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Pete nodded, trying to assure the trail boss, "Well, I think I'm gonna go see if Wish has got any grub for me."

"Alright, Pete. You go ahead. I'll be there in a little while." Gil Favor answered, somewhat distractedly.

Pete nodded his thanks and started to turn his mount towards the chuck wagon back at camp. Favor stopped him. "Take Rowdy's horse with you. He's pretty spooked up. Must be the explosions. Hey Soos'll take care of him."

"Sure thing." Pete took the reins of the energetic sorrel and lucked to his own horse to move forward. Gil Favor watched him go and then turned back to the direction in which Pete had come from. _He'll show up soon enough, _he thought to himself. He watched the peak of the rise for a few more minutes, then turned and headed back to camp.

Gil Favor had to admit to himself that he was worried about his ramrod. Just a little. Maybe more than a little. When Fox had galloped into camp without his master astride, Favor had tensed and put away his dinner that he had just begun to devour. Fox had been lathered in sweat and his rolled in fear; but, otherwise, appeared to be unharmed. Right away, the trail boss had taken two men, Jim Quince and Joe Scarlett, with him to search for Rowdy. They followed Fox's tracks but had found nothing to indicate foul play; except for one point where the tracks showed that the horse appeared to have shied at something, then galloped off. They were unable to follow the trail any farther or to search for further clues as to what may have happened to the ramrod, because the ground turned rocky and hard. Favor had called off the search then; saying that Rowdy would find his way back to camp…he hoped.

This was unfamiliar territory to both Favor and Nolan. After a warning from the sheriff at the last town, they had taken a wide detour off the trail around an area suspected to be the hideout of some renegade Indians. A Marshal and two men were on their way to look into the problem. But the herd's sudden stampede had only taken them closer to the area. Though they had their maps, maps did not show the exact terrain or all of the many canyons that led in and out of the valley.

Favor could only hope that Rowdy would show up soon. He knew from experience and many years on the trail that renegade Indians could be unpredictable…and dangerous. They left their traditions and honor behind when they left their tribes.

When Favor got back to camp, Pete had already assigned several of the men, and some extra, their nighthawk positions. Favor nodded his thanks to Pete, for taking care of what Rowdy would normally had he been there, then strode over to the picket line leading his dappled bay gelding. Hey Soos was working his hardest trying to settle the horses down. He walked quickly from horse to horse speaking soft, sweet words to each one but to no avail. They settled for a few minutes once again they started up, pacing and snorting. "Problems, Hey Soos?" Favor asked.

Hey Soos let out an exasperated sigh and glanced back at the nervous horses. "It is Señor Rowdy's horse. He is in distress and it is making the others very nervous." He pointed to the end of the picket line to Fox. The sorrel horse was pulling at his rope and was lathered in sweat again. His ears were laid flat on his head and he whinnied piteously. "I think perhaps he misses his master."

Favor nodded slowly. "You're probably right. I'll take him off your hands, Hey Soos, and tie him away from the others." The trail boss thought he a look of relief sweep across the wrangler's face.

"Thank you, Señor Favor. That will help very much. When Señor Rowdy comes in, I am sure Fox will settle."

"Let's hope so." _Let's also hope that Rowdy _does_ show up…and soon, Favor thought to himself._


	2. Chapter 2

Rawhide / Wild Wild West crossover

Incident of the Night of the Catch-22

Chapter 2

"Artie! That you out there?" James T. West called out into the dimly lit passageway of the railway car. This train was not an ordinary, run-of-the-mill train, and neither were the two men who traveled in it. They were James West and Artemus Gordon; agents of the Secret Service and personal friends of President Grant.

James West was buttoning his blue vest when Artemus's voice drifted back to him from the parlor area of the car. "Yeah, Jim. Marshal Godfrey's with me."

"Be right there!" Jim answered. He could hear Artie telling their guest to be seated and then offering him a drink. Jim smiled to himself. Artemus was a very educated man, and a former actor; the very picture of a gentleman. He was always the perfect host but he could also handle himself with the best of them when the situation called for it. Jim heard a bottle clink against a glass and he knew that the marshal had accepted Artie's offer.

West ran a comb quickly over his thick, brown hair and then donned his blue jacket. He then removed the hollow heels on his boots and placed the putty and explosives inside. After putting his sleeve gun in place, as well as the knife in the secret pocket in the back of his jacket, he opened the compartment door and walked down the passageway to the parlor car; where he could hear Artie discussing their current mission with the marshal.

The parlor area, actually the whole car, was luxuriously decorated; green velvet drapes hung on the windows, a sofa with red cushions trimmed with gold tassels sat to the left, a desk and chair lay farther to the left, a wine cabinet and three chairs and a table sat near the center, where Artemus and Marshal Godfrey were seated.

"…And that's why we think it could be more than just renegade Indians. Renegades don't normally operate this way. At least, not in this fashion." Artemus looked up when he heard Jim's footsteps approaching. He got up from his chair at the table. A man who appeared to be in his late-forties, with graying brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He was dressed modestly; a gold star was pinned on his tan, leather vest. "Marshal, this is James West, my partner. Jim, this is Marshal Godfrey."

Jim nodded. "How do you do, Marshal?"

"Fine, thank you. I've heard a lot about you and Mr. Gordon. I certainly hope you two will be able to help me straighten out this matter." The marshal's accent held a bit of the South.

"We'll sure try. I assume Mr. Gordon's filled you in on our suspicions?" Jim brought out another chair across the table and sat down.

"As a matter of fact, I was just getting into that." Artemus turned back to Marshal Godfrey. "You see, with renegades who hate the white man, they don't care just _who that white man is whom they kill. They just do it. They wouldn't care if that white man was the mayor of a certain city or an important figure."_

"_But in this case, the 'Indians', whether they really are Indians or not, are kidnapping important people in this area and holding them for ransom." The marshal added._

_Artemus nodded. "Right. The renegades aren't in it for money. They wouldn't care about that. What they want is 'revenge' for what the whites did to them; taking away their land, breaking treaties and so on."_

"_It has to be either white men posing as Indians or someone who has promised these renegades, or whoever they, are something in return." Jim pointed out. "But we won't find out by just talking about it. Once we get to Monroe Junction and investigate the matter further, we should know more."_

_The marshal nodded approvingly and then got up from his seat. Artemus and Jim followed suit. "Well, it sounds as if you two will have things well in hand before long." He picked up his hat and shook hands with the agents. "I'll probably see you in Monroe tomorrow evening at the latest. I'll be checked in at the inn by then. Good day to you boys." Marshal Godfrey touched the brim of his white, dusty hat in a small salute._

_Artemus and Jim both bid their adieus to the lawman as he left. The train had been stopped on the siding near Monroe Junction the day before about 2 miles outside of town. The two agents' plan was to get their, or rather Artie's, cover story and disguise prepared before heading into town the next day. Jim would go in as himself and search for clues and try to flush out whoever was behind the scheme; Being the actor he was, Artie would go in with his disguise in place and try to gather information or possibly even infiltrate the gang._

_Artemus sighed and flopped down on the sofa, his brown eyes closed. "I'm pooped!" He mumbled._

_Jim chuckled, his own green eyes twinkling. "You'd better get some rest before we head out tomorrow. I've got to go check on Blackjack; he hasn't had his run today so I may take him out." He turned to the back of the car and started to head toward the livestock car. He stopped and looked back at Artie. "Um, Artie?"_

"_Yeah, Jim?" Artemus mumbled with his eyes still closed._

"_What disguise are you planning on using tomorrow?"_

_Artie's eyes popped open and a mischievous grin appeared on his face. "That, James, my boy, I want you to guess when I show up in town tomorrow after you. I've been improving my methods and I want to see just how good this one is."_

_Jim rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. His partner's disguises were already almost perfection, even Jim had trouble recognizing his friend sometimes. "Fine. But if I don't make contact with you by evening at the inn, show yourself." He said pointing a finger at his friend._

_Artemus winked and made an 'Okay' sign with his hand. "Sure thing, pal."_

_With that final word, Jim grabbed his black hat, turned and left their car to go to the livestock car where his and Artie's horses were stabled. The cool evening breeze drifted past him and the sounds of the night filled his ears. The area in this part of Texas was beautiful. Jim loved all of it but he had always liked this area. The tall prairie grass danced to the wind and the leaves in a nearby tree rustled, adding to the music of the night. The full moon hung in the dark sky, acting as a spotlight on the stage of nature. The ground near the tracks crunched softly as Jim let the ramp down on the livestock car. From inside, a horse nickered and pacing could be heard._

_Blackjack was restless after almost a whole day cooped up in his stall. He stomped his hoof impatiently as Jim opened the stall and brought the tack inside. After tacking up and removing the horse's halter, Jim led his steed outside and mounted up. Blackjack danced in place, his sleek black coat gleaming in the moonlight. Jim patted the horse's neck and soothed him before setting off at a walk. The horse was eager to run but Jim knew the dangers of galloping a horse before being warmed up. _

_After about ten minutes of walking and trotting the horse, Jim squeezed his legs. The stallion barely needed any urging. He struck off at a canter. Blackjack lengthened his stride and soon it seemed as if they were flying. The wind rushed by and whipped the horse's mane; it stung Jim's face as he bent low in the saddle but he didn't notice. The rush of freedom after being on the train for so long was exhilarating. After a few minutes, Blackjack slowed on his own; his nostrils flaring and his ears pricked toward a entrance to what looked to be a large valley. Jim looked over his shoulder and realized that they had gone a bit farther away from the train that he had planned; but he could still see the lights in the car so he decided a little exploring couldn't hurt. Artie knew that Jim could take care of himself, so he shouldn't be worrying too much. _

_Jim clucked his tongue and urged the horse forward into the valley. A breeze drifted toward them, carrying voices and the lowing of cattle toward the man and horse in the shadows. Jim stopped the horse and listened closely. He could also hear someone strumming a guitar and humming a familiar tune. He looked around and knew he was fairly close to the area that Marshal Godfrey had said the supposed renegades were holed up. He didn't think they would have cattle but he knew he'd better watch his step. _

_He rode Blackjack quietly behind the trees. He would have dismounted but knew that if he was spotted, he would have a better chance of escape astride his horse. Jim circled around and finally spotted the camp on the other side of the trees. He relaxed when he saw that they were just ordinary drovers. A chuck wagon and several me around it were talking with someone who appeared to be the cook. Jim stood in his stirrups and saw that beyond the camp, was a herd of, he thought, was a couple thousand head._

"_Don't make a move, mister. I've got you covered with this rifle." A voice warned from behind him. "Now just keep them hands raised and dismount." _


	3. Chapter 3

Rawhide / Wild Wild West crossover

Incident of the Night of the Catch-22

Chapter 3

Jim slowly raised his hands but at the last moment leaned back in the saddle pulled slightly on Blackjack's reins. "Rear, Blackjack! Rear!" Jim had trained his horse well and the black stallion responded immediately by rearing and then bursting forward into the drover's camp.

"Hey! Stop him!" The man yelled, who had snuck up behind him. He hadn't heard the man with the rifle come up behind him and it was unusual for someone to get the drop on him. He was trained to notice little details and to be on his alert every moment. Jim and Artemus were two of the top agents in the department.

Despite Blackjack's efforts, Jim found himself trapped by a circle of drovers armed with pistols and a couple with rifles. The horse continued to rear and paw the air. "Settle down that horse of yours." A man, who appeared to be the boss, said. His voice was deep and rich, and his face stern. He didn't yell the command but just said loud enough for West to hear. Jim soothed his horse and stroked the horse's neck which was now covered in sweat. The man who had announced Jim's presence was lean and had a mustache, his eyes were questioning as he watched the newcomer.

The man nodded and continued. "Thanks. Now, you mind tellin' us just who you are and what you're doin' sneakin' up on our camp? "

Jim straightened in his saddle. "My name's James West. And I thought you might be some men I'm looking for."

"James West? Are _the_ Mr. James West? The government agent?" A young man with a Confederate kepi asked in awe.

Jim nodded. "That's right."

"It's a really pleasure to meet you, Mr. West. I've read all about you in the newspapers. My name's Mushy." The young man went on.

"Nice to meet you, Mushy."

The man with the baritone voice motioned for his men to put their guns away, which they did. "I'm Gil Favor, trail boss. We're pushin' a herd to Sedalia. I'm sorry about the rude welcoming but you can understand our caution with a herd this size." Favor motioned to the herd.

"I understand."

"What about these men you say you're looking' for? What do they look like? Maybe we can help." Favor offered.

"I'm not exactly sure _what they look like. Me and my partner were sent here to investigate a matter of renegade Indians." Jim answered truthfully. He usually said as little as possible with strangers, but he felt that he could trust this man._

_The older man that Jim had guessed was the cook strode toward them purposefully, his face full of determination. "Well, are you just gonna sit up there gabbin', mister? Or are you gonna get down off that horse and give that horse a' yours a rest? Hey Soos, come over here and take care of the gentleman's horse. I'll get a cup of coffee for you." A look of amusement was displayed on Jim's face as the older man took charge of the situation. A Mexican came up and smiled at Blackjack. His eyes filled with awe and admiration. "He is a beautiful horse, Señor West."_

_Jim dismounted and thanked him. Favor shook Jim's hand. "That's Wishbone, our cook, sawbones, and anything else you can think of." He motioned to the older man who was by the fire making another pot of coffee. "And this is Hey Soos. He's our wrangler." He said turning to the Mexican lad who was stroking Blackjack's sweat-soaked neck and speaking to the horse softly in his native tongue. "The man who saw you first would be Jim Quince." Quince scuffed his boot and looked down, embarrassed that the man he had caught was a government agent._

_Jim walked over to him and shook his hand, much to the surprise of the cowboy. "Congratulations, Mr. Quince. It isn't often that someone gets the drop on me." _

"_Uh, um…th-thanks, mister." Quince managed to stutter. The cowboy standing next to Quince, whom Jim learned later was Joe Scarlett, elbowed his fellow drover and chuckled._

_Jim turned back to the trail boss. "I really can't stay long. My partner's waiting for me back at the train. And I'm sorry I interrupted your evening."_

_Favor waved a hand dismissively. "That's alright. Our evenings don't really have much in 'em anyway." The trail boss hesitated for a moment before asking, "On your way in, you didn't happen to see a young man about my height? He's got brown hair, green eyes, and he's a little older than Mushy here. Looks a little bit like you, actually."_

"_No, I'm sorry. I haven't seen a soul since I left the train. Who is he?" Jim asked._

_The trail boss sighed. "Rowdy Yates. He's my ramrod and he's been missin' since late afternoon. I'm sure he'll show up soon though." There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he said the last words. Just from these few words, Jim knew that this Yates must mean a lot to Favor. He, himself, sounded the same way if Artemus was gone for a long period of time with no word. If Artie was ever in trouble, he had this gut feeling and he was usually right. He also knew that Artie was the same way. _

"_I'll be on the lookout for him. I'll probably be in town for a couple of days, maybe weeks, so I'll send word to you if I see him." Jim offered._

_Favor nodded his thanks. "We'll be camped here for a couple of days and let the cattle get their fill." The trail boss pushed his hat back. "You mentioned somethin' about renegades. Do you think it's possible-"_

_Jim shook his head. "I don't know. So far they seem to be targeting important officials in Monroe Junction which leads me and my partner to think it may not really be Indians. We think it's something much bigger. But I'm not at liberty to state anything more."_

_Just then Mushy walked up, grinning and holding a folded up paper. The paper was yellowed around the edges, indicating it was fairly old and that it had passed through many hands. Mushy unfolded it and pointed at the headlines. "'James West and Artemus Gordon Break Up Smuggling Ring.'" Mushy quoted. Underneath the headlines was a picture of Jim and Artemus at Police Headquarters; after apprehending the criminals and handing them over to the proper authorities to stand trial. "I've always wanted to meet you and Mr. Gordon." Mushy paused. "You sure you can't stay for coffee?"_

"_Who isn't stayin' for coffee? I got a pot all ready and it ain't goin' to waste. Why, I've-" Wishbone was interrupted by Favor._

"_Wish…" Favor warned. _

"_I'm sorry, but I really do have to get back. Thank you for your hospitality though." Jim apologized to the cook. "I'll be on the lookout for your ramrod, Mr. Favor." He promised. before turning to collect his horse from the wrangler who was still admiring the handsome creature. He thanked Hey Soos for taking care of Blackjack and then mounted up once more._

"_It was nice meeting you - and you too, Mushy." Jim tipped his hat and after a chorus of goodbyes, turned his stallion and trotted out of the camp._

_Mushy watched West leave, still in awe that he had met someone important. Wishbone grumbled and snapped his fingers in front of Mushy's face. The young man blinked a couple of times then grinned at Wishbone. "You want me for somethin', Mr. Wishbone?"_

_Wishbone threw his hands up and marched back to the chuck wagon, still grumbling._


	4. Chapter 4

Rawhide / Wild Wild West crossover

Incident of the Night of the Catch-22

Chapter 4

The world was spinning and reeling around him when he opened his eyes. Rowdy quickly shut them again as his stomach lurched and the lunch he had had earlier came up in his throat. "It's alright, Rowdy. Just lie down and rest." A voice came through the fog in his mind. Rowdy groaned and tried once more to open his eyes. This time he forced his stomach to settle and he blinked a few times. The last thing he remembered was being in the cave, his legs trapped underneath the piles of rocks. He must've passed out sometime. Now he awoke to find himself lying on a couch. _This room looks awfully strange,_ he thought as his eyes scanned the long room. The face peering down at him was kind and worried. The man's complexion was somewhat darker than his own and his hair was brown, almost black, and curly like Pete's. He was dressed in a white shirt, his sleeves rolled up. His trousers and shirt both had dirt and blood on them.

"Where am I?" Rowdy tried to say but it came out as more of a croak. His throat was dry and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. The man beside him got up from the chair to get a glass of water. He brought it to Rowdy's lips and the ramrod drank thirstily. Rowdy sighed. "Thanks." He whispered. The glass of water had helped a great deal. He reached up and felt a bandage wrapping his forehead.

"That must've been some cave-in. Your sister said you were lucky and I agree with her." The man smiled. "You've got a some cracked ribs, about four I'd guess, and you're gonna have some nasty looking bruises and a few cuts for a couple of days. I was surprised to learn that you don't have anything broken or cracked in your legs. Your sister said your legs were buried under a pile of rocks."

Rowdy came to attention and a look of confusion passed over his face. "My sister? I don't have a sister. Where am I?" He asked again. He felt the bandage wrapping his chest underneath a clean shirt that was not his own.

Now it was the other man's turn to look confused. "Your sister. Helena Yates. Quite a lovely young lady, I must say. She said you were in your family's mine when it collapsed. She said you and your brother were mining inside when it happened. Miss Yates brought you here so you could be taken care of."

Rowdy's mind was spinning. He would have shaken his head to try to clear his thoughts but he had a terrible headache. He looked the stranger straight in the eye with an unwavering gaze. "I don't have a sister or a brother. I was with a cattle drive, scouting out the area when I found a cave. There was an explosion and it caved in on me." Rowdy looked around desperately. "Would you please tell me where I am, mister?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm Artemus Gordon and you're on a train-"

Rowdy's face registered shock. "A train! I can't be on a train. I gotta get back to the herd, and let Mr. Favor know-" He tried to sit up but the pain in his chest was excruciating.

"Don't worry. The train isn't moving and won't be for a while." Artemus paused for a moment. He scratched his jaw thoughtfully and rested his chin in his hand. "Come to think of it, I did think it odd that she said you were miner but you're dressed in the typical clothing of a cowboy — your chaps and the smell of cattle are dead giveaways." Artemus winked, then turned somber again. "If she wasn't your sister, then who was she?"

"I don't know. The last time I saw a girl was a week or so ago back in Sterling City." Rowdy answered slowly. "I gotta get back to the herd and let Mr. Favor know where I am. He's probably blown his top by now." He rubbed his eyes, his vision beginning to blur. "Mr. Favor's my boss." Rowdy mumbled. He was fighting to keep his eyes open.

"You're not going anywhere — at least not yet. Not until you're well enough to travel. When my partner gets back we'll arrange to let your boss know that you're well and where you are." Artemus became alert to the sounds of a horse approaching and then hooves clattering on the ramp leading into the livestock car, which was attached in front of the agents' car. "That should be him now." He got up and made his way to the door at the back of the car.

Jim had been surprised to see the young man lying on the sofa of the car when Artie opened the door. He matched the description of the ramrod that Favor had said had been missing since late afternoon. Artie and Jim took seats at the table and watched as Rowdy slept. Artemus explained that he had given Rowdy a mild sedative in his drink shortly before Jim arrived. "Rest is what he needs most right now." Artie said as he sipped his coffee.

Jim nodded. Rowdy was wearing one of Jim's shirts; a dusty, white shirt spotted with dirt and blood lay on the back of the sofa. Artemus had retold the story of Rowdy Yates and the "sister" to Jim when he arrived, also informing him that the young man had denied having a sister or a brother. "He matches the description of the ramrod, Rowdy Yates, who the trail boss said was missing." Jim said.

Artemus looked at him, confused. "Ramrod? You met this Mr. Favor?"

After telling Artie his story and how he had come upon the drover's camp, Jim also told his partner about Favor asking if he had seen a young man who had been missing since late afternoon and that the young man was the ramrod of the outfit. "The description matches perfectly, and I doubt there are many 'Rowdy Yates's' out there." Jim looked at his partner questioningly. "I wonder who the girl was. What'd she look like?"

"She was about 5 foot 4, I'd say. She had light brown hair, hazel eyes, and she seemed very worried about Mr. Yates there." Artemus nodded toward the sleeping man on the sofa. He could still see the image of the lovely woman embedded in his mind. Her words had been soft and tinged with worry, when she had knocked on the train door. Artemus had been surprised to see someone other than Jim at the door and he was even more surprised when he saw the limp cowboy slumped over in the saddle. "She called herself Helena — Beautiful name, eh, Jim? Ah! Helen of Troy! Thou beauty surpasses no-"

"Artie." Jim interrupted his friend's superb acting abilities. Before the War Between the States and before being inducted into the Secret Service, Artemus had tread the boards in many an important theatre; mainly acting in Shakespeare plays.

"Oh, yes. Well, I got the impression that she knew him, though her story, I admit, was full of holes. Not that I paid much attention just then. What with him needing urgent care and all." Artie took another sip of his coffee. "She must've known him from somewhere to know his name. He was unconscious when she brought him in and I doubt he had been strong enough to even tell her his name. I looked through his pockets and he had no means of identification on him."

"Blackjack's had enough excitement for tonight. I'll ride out tomorrow morning and tell the trail boss where he can find his man before I go into town." Jim suggested.

At that moment, Rowdy stirred on the couch and opened his eyes. He blinked a couple of times, clearly disoriented then seemed to remember where he was. Artemus got up and walked over to the sofa. "How're you feeling?"

Rowdy winced as he turned slightly to see another man at the table. "Okay, I guess."

Artemus followed Rowdy's questioning gaze and proceeded to introduce his partner. "This is James West, my partner." The man at the table nodded.

"Partner?" Rowdy asked. His eyes were filled with questions but he didn't speak all of them. Why was the train so lavish? Who was the girl that Artemus had spoke of? Just _who_ exactly were these two men? The last question was answered by the man called James West.

"We're agents of the Secret Service working for the government. We usually work together, so that makes us partners." West explained.

Recognition lit up Rowdy's face as he remembered a newspaper that Mushy had shown him a while back. "Now I remember. A friend of mine showed me a picture. The newspaper's kinda old but I remember him showin' it to me."

West nodded and smiled slightly. "Mushy, am I right?" He held up a hand to stop Rowdy from speaking his question of how he knew. "I met the trail crew earlier this evening. Your boss is worried about you, Yates. I'll be going out there tomorrow morning to let him know where you are."

Rowdy thanked Artemus as he helped him get comfortably into a sitting position. "So…you fellas are with the Secret Service, huh? I met a colleague of yours back in Sterling City about a week or so ago. I think his name was…Gleason. Carl Gleason." [To learn more about Carl Gleason see Incident of the Sterling Fox]

Jim nodded. "He's fairly new to the department; but, so far, he's shown a lot of potential as a field agent."

"A good man." Artemus agreed, then looked back to Rowdy. "Well now, Mr. Yates, since it looks as though you may be with us for a little while, you can sleep in my quarters." He hushed Rowdy's protests. "Tut, tut! I'll have none of that! I've had plenty of experience with a certain patient who's felt the same way more than once before." Artemus glanced pointedly at Jim; who, in turn, glared at his Artemus.

Artemus reviewed the evenings happenings as he walked down the passageway to prepare his quarters, which lay behind the door next to Jim's room. This young man who had been brought into his care reminded Artie so much of Jim West. But the first thing Artie had noticed, was that both men had the same attitude; the same grit and determination that he saw in his partner everyday. When Artie had bandaged the lad and seen the old, as well as new, scars on his body, he suspected that Rowdy also possessed the same fighting spirit that had made his partner famous. Of course, the pair didn't look _exactly_ alike but they did resemble each other a bit. _At least not as much as Janus does, _Artie thought. Janus had been Jim's perfect double. The evil, clever Dr. Loveless had redone the man's face to become the exact replica of James West. [See Wild Wild West episode season 1 episode 10 "The Night Terror Stalked the Town" ]

Soon, Artie had finished preparing the room for Rowdy. Artemus would sleep on the sofa tonight. He left the compartment and headed back to the parlor area. When he reached the room, Rowdy was still trying to figure out who the girl had been who had called herself his sister. And how did she know his name?

It was all very confusing and Rowdy found himself laying awake most of the night trying to remember. Anything. Anything at all. He finally fell asleep dreaming of a girl he had once known…

_Rowdy strode proudly up the walk attired in his gray uniform. His mother had made it for him shortly before he had signed up to join the Confederate Army. Rowdy straightened up and raised his hand to knock. He didn't have to wait long before the door opened and girl about his age, with locks of brown hair that shone in the morning light and hazel eyes that twinkled merrily when she saw who was calling. _

"_Why, Rowdy Yates! Come on in!" She stepped back and let him in._

_Rowdy removed his kepi and smiled at her. "Good afternoon, Miss Rainsford. Well, what do you think, Helena? Real snappy, ain't it?" He said, spreading his arms so she could see his new uniform._

_She laughed. "You look positively dashing, darling."_

_Rowdy looked down at his polished boots and shuffled his feet; then looked back up at Helena. "Helena…"_

"_Yes, Rowdy?"_

"_You probably know that my regiment is movin' out tomorrow and well, seeing as how it could be a little while before I get back…" He paused again and brought something out of his pocket. "I wanted to give you this. An engagement present." He gently took her hand into his and pressed something into her hand._

_Helena gasped. "Rowdy! It's…it's…"_

"_Do you like it?"_

"_Oh, Rowdy, it's beautiful!" She slipped the gold ring with the engraved roses onto her ring finger. Then she threw her arms around Rowdy's neck. Rowdy held her there for a long while. "When I come back in a few months, we can be married." He smiled down at her._

_Little did he know, little did anyone know, that it would be several years before anyone came home. Many would not come home. They would discover that war was not at all what it was portrayed to be. There was no glory in it; they would fight to stay alive, they would watch as their comrades in arms fell on the battlefields beside them. Everyone talked of how they would whip the opposing side and how it would all be over in a few months. It didn't take long for them to realize that it would, most assuredly, be more than a few months. The next several years would be years of loss and triumph for both sides; both sides would have their share of grief and sorrow before the war was over… And Rowdy would have his share as well. More than his share…_


	5. Chapter 5

Rawhide / Wild Wild West crossover

Incident of the Night of the Catch-22

Chapter 5

After leaving the camp of the trail drovers, the black horse's hooves flew smoothly over the dry ground. James West sat easy and straight in the saddle; every bit the cavalryman he had been as a Captain in the Union Army. Jim was 19 years of age when the war had broken out on April 12th 1861; when the Confederates showered Fort Sumter with their shore batteries. He had then left the university where he was studying law and joined the cavalry.

Jim had left the train earlier than scheduled in order to inform Gil Favor of the whereabouts and the condition of his ramrod. Jim had arrived at the camp only to discover that Favor and, the scout, Nolan, had left before dawn to search for Rowdy. Jim gave the message to the cook, who insisted on him having a cup of coffee before taking his leave. While drinking his coffee, Mushy, whom Jim found out was the cook's louse, asked all sorts of questions and leaned forward on the log he sat on as he listened to West and Gordon's escapades. Jim smiled remembering Mushy. He had also found out that "Mushy" was only a nickname given to him by the drovers. His real name was Harkness Mushgrove III. The cook assured Jim that he would let Mr. Favor know where Rowdy was and that he was safe; but in the meantime, he would send Mushy to look after Rowdy. Jim had not given any specific details about their mission but Wishbone knew that the two agents would be busy enough.

While he had been in their camp, Hey Soos had shown him the horses. The Mexican was very proud of the string of horses; he knew each and every one's habits, and their likes and dislikes. When Jim had asked about the anxious looking sorrel tied off by himself, Hey Soos had explained that the sorrel, Fox, was Rowdy's horse. Fox reminded Jim a lot of his own mount. They both were very high-spirited but when you came right down to it they were very dependable and not to mention beautiful. Jim had then walked quietly up to the lathered horse and spoken a few quiet words. Yes, he was a magnificent creature but to Jim, no horse could compare to his own Superstar. Fox had settled down after a few minutes and quietly started grazing.

Jim sat deeper into the saddle and tightened the reins a bit when he felt Superstar start to lengthen his stride. The horse wanted to go for a good gallop but now wasn't the time. Jim wanted to survey the layout of the land surrounding the town. He also wanted to be on his every alert in a new town where he didn't know the residents very well and all. James West and Artemus Gordon had many enemies; people they had tangled with in the past, people who would like to see the two agents dead.

The horse and rider reached the town of Monroe a few minutes later. The town was beginning to awaken and there were several wagons already pulled in front of the general store. The sign above the railed porch of the corner building read "Parley Mercantile". The town consisted of three streets and after surveying the town, Jim found that Monroe appeared to be a fairly productive town. Jim stopped Superstar near the mercantile porch.

"Excuse me, mister." He stopped a man on the boardwalk. The mustachioed man leaning on the railing looked up at the rider and continued chewing his tobacco. "Could you tell me where the sheriff's office is located?"

The man pointed down the street. " 'Cross the street. Next to the last buildin'." He continued to chew his tobacco.

_A man of many words, _Jim thought dryly."Thank you." Jim put a finger to his hat and nodded his thanks then trotted Superstar down the street to where the man had said the sheriff's office was to be found. There was something vaguely familiar about that man but Jim couldn't quite put his finger on it. Jim shook his head. _I've got more important things to think about right now,_ he thought to himself. He dismounted and tied Superstar to the hitching post.

He mounted the steps and opened the door to the sheriff's office. The building looked somewhat new and the man sitting at the desk writing on some papers was not at all what Jim had expected to be a sheriff. This man must've been the youngest sheriff Jim had ever seen. _He can't be over eighteen,_ Jim thought, astounded. The man looked up from his paperwork. He had a boyish face, but good-looking. "Do you need somethin' ?" He asked, his voice had a rich Southern accent.

"Sheriff Cooper?"

"Yes, that's right. And you are?" Sheriff Cooper set his pencil down and leaned back away from his desk, his arms folded.

Jim offered his hand and took of his hat. "Agent James West. We got your letter at headquarters in Washington. My partner should be here later today." After shaking the sheriff's hand, Jim took his credentials out of his pocket for the sheriff's inspection. Sheriff Cooper nodded and handed the credentials back.

"Have a seat, won't you, Mr. West?"

"Thank you." West took one of the two wooden chairs across from the sheriff.

Sheriff Cooper leaned back in his seat and sighed wearily. "I don't know what to do, Mr. West. These kidnappings have just about crippled Monroe Junction. Oh, you can't see it but you can feel it. The townspeople are scared. Scared stiff. Some have already packed up and left town." He leaned forward again and looked West straight in the eye. "Mr. West, we're a prosperous town but these folks can't afford what the kidnappers are askin'. I've done all I can think of but I need help."

"Exactly which people were kidnapped? What are the kidnappers asking? All I know so far, is that John Hayes, a federal lawyer, was down here in Monroe getting ready to head back to Washington and was kidnapped. Our superior told us that your mayor's niece was kidnapped as well." Jim said.

The sheriff nodded. "The editor of the newspaper, the mayor's niece, and that lawyer. They're askin' 80,000 dollars in exchange for the captives' _safe_ return." He stated, though skeptically. "These Indians are too well organized. I'm thinkin' there's someone behind it. A mastermind." Sheriff Cooper looked embarrassed for a moment. " 'Course, I guess it's possible that their working' alone but it was a thought."

Jim was impressed by the young man's knowledge. The sheriff was awfully young to hold such an office but he certainly knew his job and the law. "My partner and I were thinking the same thing. Renegade Apaches aren't usually interested in money. Do you have any leads?"

"I'm afraid not." Sheriff Cooper shook his head. "So far, I've only got suspicions and with no deputies-"

Jim interrupted him. "No deputies?"

"The men in this town are afraid to be deputized, after what happened to the last ones. I kinda suspect that maybe their families have been threatened too. You see, after the editor, that's Dave Frey, after he was kidnapped we were more prepared and on our guard. We tailed the kidnappers to a canyon that I think might be their hideout. Ten of my men staked out the place. They were found dead the next day." He looked at Jim, his gaze one of both anger and grief. "There were twelve men in that posse. Twelve men! I was responsible for them, Mr. West."

"You couldn't help that. Sheriff, you-"

"It's bad enough that folks around here are still gettin' used to the idea of a sheriff who's only twenty-one years of age. I've failed 'em miserably, so far. That's why I sent for you and Mr. Gordon. I need help with this case before…Well, that doesn't matter. What matters right now is that this case gets solved."

Jim didn't press Sheriff Cooper further. He got up and shook hands with the sheriff who did likewise. The sheriff said he would gather the names of more of the important people in town and make up a list for Jim. After asking where he could find a good hotel and the livery, Jim thanked the sheriff and left the office. He unhitched Superstar, mounted and rode off at a trot back down the street. He turned down an alley and made his way to the next street where the hotel was located. After checking in at the Parley Hotel, apparently owned by the proprietor of the mercantile, and leaving his horse with the hostler at the stables, Jim freshened up and rested in his hotel room.

Sheriff Cooper had promised to send a boy with an envelope later; as soon as he made up a list of the important people in town, and the people who had witnessed Dave Frey's kidnappers when they were leaving town. Artie and Jim were going to have their hands full with this case.

NOTE: I modeled Sheriff Cooper after Ben Cooper, hence the name, because he's one of my favorite actors. He would've been awesome on radio with a voice like his! I've only watched him once on a _Bonanza_ episode but he was pretty good. :) (And I liked his voice! XD)


	6. Chapter 6

Rawhide / Wild Wild West crossover

Incident of the Night of the Catch-22

Chapter 6

Gil Favor rode into camp on his lathered bay gelding and dismounted near the chuck wagon. Some of the men were out hazing the herd. The sun had risen considerably and was now rising above the canyon walls; the temperature was also rising. He walked over to Wishbone, wiping his brow and looking up at the sun. "Gonna be a real scorcher today." Not that it was any surprise. Lately, the temperatures had reached 110 degrees in the shade. Wishbone nodded, somewhat distractedly. "What you got on your mind, Wishbone?" Favor asked. Then he noticed something. "Where's Mushy?"

"I sent him to go look up on Rowdy. He-"

"Rowdy? Where is he? Pete's still out there lookin' for him." Favor broke in.

Wishbone crossed his arms and began tapping his foot. "Well, if you'd let me finish, maybe I'd be able to tell you."

Favor rolled his eyes skyward and tried to keep his voice at even tone. "Alright, Wishbone. Go on."

The cook nodded his head. "That's more like it. You remember that West fella that came around last night? He came back this morning a couple hours after you left and said that Rowdy was brought to his and his partner's train last night. Said the boy's hurt bad but he'll be alright with rest and proper docterin'."

Favor let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Relief washed over him when he heard the news. Rowdy could get into more trouble than all of the drovers put together but Favor never got used to it. He couldn't help but worry about the boy at times. Though Favor hadn't shown his feelings outright, Wishbone could tell that he was relieved. He hadn't been with the trail boss all this time not to be able to tell what he was feeling. Most of the time.

"He said his partner, a Mr. Gordon, is somewhat of a fizzishan." Wishbone continued.

"A, uh…a what, Wishbone?"

"You know, a…a fizzishan. Fiz - i - shan." Wishbone sounded out the word.

Favor laughed aloud. "And what may I ask is so almighty funny?" Wishbone said, a tinge of anger in his voice.

"I think you mean _physician_, Wish. Fi-zish-un." Favor corrected Wishbone and sounded out the word, still chuckling and smiling.

Wishbone raised his chin a notch higher and stuck his hand on his hips. "That's what I said. You gotta get your ears cleaned or somethin', Boss , 'cause if you can't-"

"Wish…" Favor started.

"…I mean when a man…" Wishbone rattled on.

"Wish…"

"…you can't expect me to pronounce all of them fancy words right and-"

"Wishbone!" Favor yelled.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Favor."

"Just tell me where the train is and _what_ exactly happened to Rowdy. So I don't sound like a babblin' idiot when I get there."

_Why she had to go_

_I don't know_

_She wouldn't say_

_- "Yesterday"_ sung by The Beatles

"Sure is somethin', ain't it, Rowdy?" Mushy said as he looked around the spacious car of West and Artie's train. He had arrived at the train about ten minutes ago to check on Rowdy. Mushy had rode up just in time to meet Artemus Gordon, who was leaving for Monroe Junction. The agent was in disguise and Mushy hadn't recognized him right off. It wasn't until Artemus had identified himself that Mushy recognized him from his photograph in the San Francisco newspaper; even then Mushy studied the face of the agent as they talked, trying to see through the disguise. He was amazed how different Mr. Gordon looked; the man had changed his features considerably. After leaving instructions that Rowdy was not to be moved until a doctor said so, Artemus had let Mushy inside to see Rowdy and then left the train.

Mushy spun a model of two .45's around on their stand, which sat on the desk. "Mushy! Don't! You'll-" Rowdy shouted urgently from the sofa that he was lying on. It was too late. Rowdy reached over and pulled Mushy down, despite the pain he experienced from his cracked ribs. The two firearms that had appeared to be harmless models, fired in the direction where Mushy had been standing a split second before. Rowdy looked down at Mushy who lay sprawled out on the floor of the train.

Mushy's mouth gaped open and his eyes were wide with shock. He hadn't expected the two models to go off. _What have I walked into?_ He wondered with alarm. Slowly, Rowdy's voice came into focus once more. "Mush? Mushy! Are you alright?"

Mushy sat up slowly. "I'm okay." He said a bit breathlessly. _I think. _He looked at Rowdy questioningly.

"It's one of the inventions Mr. Gordon has stashed around here. Here. Let me show you some of 'em so you don't hurt yourself. Or both of us." Rowdy said with a lopsided grin. Mushy then helped Rowdy into a sitting position so he could point them out.

"Alright. Now, uh, you know about the two model .45's. They're controlled by a lever on the fireplace too. Over there on the desk inside those books, there's a telegraph inside. Don't let the looks fool ya, Mush. They're hollow." He went on to point out a couple of the other strange and fascinating things about the special train. Rowdy and Mushy were still talking about the train, the happenings of yesterday, and the two governments agents when a knock sounded on the door of the car. Mushy went to the window next to the door and peeked out. "It's Mr. Favor." He told Rowdy as he reached for the brass doorknob.

Mushy opened the door and Gil Favor entered. Favor nodded at Mushy and then began taking in the luxurious train car. He hadn't expected such lavish accommodations on any train. "Hi, Boss." He looked to the right side of the train beside the fireplace to see Rowdy sitting up on a yellow sofa. Under Rowdy's shirt, which Favor noticed was not the shirt Rowdy had been wearing when he had gone missing, he could see the heavy bandages underneath.

Favor nodded a greeting to Rowdy then walked over to the sofa. "How you feeling, boy?" He took off his hat and grabbed a chair. He spun it around, hooked his hat on the back of it; then he straddled the chair, resting his crossed arms over the back.

The ramrod shrugged. "Okay. Sorry I didn't get back yesterday, Boss." _Here it comes…_Rowdy glanced at his boss's face. He had been expecting a major rebuking from the trail boss ever since he had been able to think straight after his accident.

"Don't worry bout it." Rowdy gaped at Favor. That wasn't at all what he had expected to come from the boss's mouth. After studying Rowdy's shirt, Favor raised an eyebrow.

Rowdy looked down at his new shirt and stammered, still surprised at Favor's attitude. "It…uh…Mr. Gordon gave one of Mr. West's shirts." The ramrod cleared his throat nervously. "Mine wasn't exactly in good condition, if you know what I mean." He gave a crooked smile.

Mushy, who had been standing beside Favor's seat, spoke up then. "Yes sir, Mr. Favor. That ol' shirt of Rowdy's ain't fittin' for anyone to where anymore." He sat down on the sofa next to Rowdy. "Rowdy's got a four cracked ribs, Mr. Favor." Mushy stated matter-of-factly.

"How'd the cave-in happen?" Gil Favor asked Rowdy.

Rowdy looked embarrassed for a moment. "Well, you see, Boss, I was on my way back to meet Pete and I…eh…got…Well, I sorta found a hidden mine behind the canyon wall and seein' as how there might be a way to, uh, maybe get through the canyon…" He paused. He knew he was babbling. Besides, there was no use in trying to hide anything from the boss.

"Yes?"

Rowdy cleared his throat again. "I got curious and decided to explore a mine; an explosion was set off somewhere nearby when I was in the tunnel. The entrance where I came in from was blocked so I don't know how the girl, whoever she was, found me."

"Her name was Helena, I was told. How'd she know your name?"

"I guess I mighta been delirious or somethin'. Maybe I said somethin'. I don't know." Rowdy shrugged. His face became thoughtful and he rubbed his chin. "Boss, I was thinkin' bout her last night tryin' to remember…I used to know a girl by the name of Helena…"

Favor leaned forward with interest. "Oh? Who was she?"

Rowdy looked as though his mind was a million miles away. "Back in my hometown. Helena Rainsford was her name…We were gonna get married after the war, but…" He hesitated. He had never talked to anyone, with the exception of his mother, about Helena before.

Mushy got back up from his seat on the end on the end of the sofa. "I'm gonna go talk to the train crew. Must be neat drivin' somethin' like this." He made his way to the door and, casting one more glance over his shoulder at Rowdy and the trail boss, left the train and headed toward the engine where the crew was. _This ain't gonna be somethin' Rowdy wants to share with everyone, _Mushy thought.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Rowdy." Favor said gently. The trail boss knew what it was like to bring back those memories. He himself rarely talked about his deceased wife to anyone; but he thought of her often.

Rowdy let out a shaky breath. "No, no. I feel like I gotta tell someone. I haven't talked about Helena to anyone, except Ma, since I got back home. Me and Helena had been friends since we were kids. My ma and hers had been friends since they were teenagers, so we were all close to each other. When I turned eighteen, I asked her to marry me." He looked up at his boss. "Oh, we weren't gonna get married right away; We planned to marry after the war was over. But I gave her an engagement ring before I left for the Army. One of my uncles was an engraver, and he made this one specially for me to give to her. Pretty thing, it was. Gold with roses engraved on it." Rowdy rubbed the bandages on his chest. He was sore and tired but he wanted to finish his story. "When I got back home after the war where my ma was waitin' for me…Ma gave me the engagement ring; Helena had married someone else and left; Ma didn't know where they had moved."

"What about your Ma's friend? The girl's mother? Couldn't she tell where her daughter had moved to?"

Rowdy shook his head. "Helena's mother had passed away a few months before the marriage. I tried to find out why Helena just up and left…but I guess she just got tired of waitin'…" His voice faded to a whisper.

When Rowdy looked backup at Favor, the trail boss saw the pain in those green eyes; Pain that had been hidden away deep inside Rowdy's heart for several years. "I'm sorry, Rowdy. I had no idea." Favor said quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

Rawhide / Wild Wild West crossover

Incident of the Night of the Catch-22

Chapter 7

A knock sounded on the door of Jim's hotel room just as he was about to attach his cravat under the collar of his shirt. He put the neckpiece down on the dresser and walked over to the door. He opened it expecting to find a boy with the list from Sheriff Cooper. Instead of finding a boy waiting with an envelope, there was no one in sight. He looked up and down the corridor but saw no signs of life.

Jim was about to close the door when he happened to look down and see only a small white envelope. _Maybe the boy was in a hurry…strange though; Most couriers wait for a tip…_ Jim bent down and picked up the envelope. Before closing the door he cast another glance in the hall. Nothing.

He went over to the bed and sat down to read the note. A small rustling noise sounded from behind him near the window. Before he had a chance to turn around, a hard object came down on his head. Warned by the noise, he had ducked fast enough to receive only a glancing blow from the blackjack that hung in the large man's hand. Jim was stunned for only moment and then he reacted.

The intruder was a burly man with a menacing glare on his face as he took a step forward. Jim ducked and dodged to the right as the man lunged forward, trying to wrap his muscular arms around the agent. Jim jumped behind his opponent and brought a karate chop down on the man's shoulders. The huge man stumbled forward and crashed into the door; Jim was surprised that it didn't fall through against the stranger's weight.

The huge man's face was twisted with rage and he lunged forward with speed that Jim didn't think possible of a man of his size. West once again tried to duck but this time he wasn't swift enough, despite a hard right cross that he landed on the huge man's jaw.

The huge man's arms enclosed around Jim's chest like steel bands, closing tighter and tighter. Jim struggled furiously against the viselike grip, his own breath coming in short gasps now, while the burly stranger laughed wickedly. His vision was beginning to blur. He knew the stranger's intention. Jim kicked backwards, trying to kick the man's shins; but the stranger's legs were spread apart and out of Jim's reach. _There's only one thing that might work,_ Jim thought urgently.

A cowboy, who was chewing tobacco, stood on the street across the Parley Hotel. _Might as well get a room here as any place,_ he thought. It was just past 4 o'clock and nearing dusk in Monroe Junction. The sun, which had been beating down mercilessly on the inhabitants of the land, was beginning to tire and was sinking toward the horizon. He stopped and spat his tobacco out in a spittoon at the door before entering the establishment. He then went inside the hotel and swaggered over to the sleepy-eyed desk clerk. "I'd like a room for 'bout a week." The cowboy drawled.

"Why don't you try the Drover's Hotel? I'm sure they may have a room for you."

The cowboy shook his head. "Nope. They're full up."

The clerk looked at him suspiciously. "Do you have the appropriate funds?"

"You mean money? 'Course I do!" The cowboy said in a huff.

"Sign here." The desk clerk turned the hotel register around and handed the cowboy a pencil. The cowboy made scrawled an unreadable signature and grabbed the key that was handed to him. "Room 12. Up the stairs and down the hall on the right."

The cowboy bounded up the stairs and went down the hall to his room. He had just put the key into the door when he heard a noise come from the room across the hall. Room 13. There was a grunt of pain, shuffling and then a loud thud. _Like a body falling on the floor!_ He thought with alarm. He had heard the all too familiar sound too many times before. He took the key out of his own room's door and pounded on the door of Room 13.

"Hey! What's goin' on in there?" He rattled the door handle but it was locked. _Well, we can fix that little problem._ He reached into his pocket and brought out a lock pick. A second later, he heard the lock click. He threw open the door in time to see the silhouette of a large man leaving by the window. He rushed to the window in time to see the man leaping to the ground and rushing to a saddled horse, then ride off.

He turned away from the window. The room was a shambles; the bed was mussed, a broken vase lay next to the side table, a drawer hung out of the dresser, obviously knocked loose from the struggle that had ensued. Then he saw him. On the floor next to the bed half-hidden by a blanket that had fallen from the bed.

"Good Lord! Jim!" The cowboy, whose voice no longer held the drawl that he had had earlier, rushed to the side of the bed and knelt down beside the fallen man. He reached down, grabbing Jim's wrist, and felt for a pulse. He released a sigh of relief. _At least he's still alive._ "Jim, Jim, come on! Wake up!" Jim remained unconscious.

The cowboy leaned forward and was about to check if West had any injuries to the head when he spotted something lying on the floor next to the downed agent. It was small white envelope and looked as though it was partially opened. The cowboy opened the rest of it and pulled out a note. It was the size of a business card and a short message was scrawled crudely on it.

"_Get out of town and drop the case, West. This is your first and last warning." _The cowboy muttered as he read the note. He stuffed the note in his jacket pocket and left the room, hurrying towards the staircase. "Clerk!"

"What do you want now?" An irritated voice drifted from downstairs.

"Get a doctor! Quick! There's an injured man up here!" The cowboy roared at the clerk.

"Oh, dear! I hope the other customers don't find out. Dear, oh, dear. This is terribly bad for business." The clerk fretted, wringing his hands.

"Just go! NOW!" The cowboy was losing his patience.

"Oh yes, sir. Right away, sir." The clerk rushed out of the hotel and Artemus Gordon, still disguised as an out-of-work cowboy, rushed back to the room where he had left the unconscious Jim West.

The voices sounded far away and the room was spinning. Jim felt his lunch threaten to come up in his throat but he held it back. He groaned from the soreness he felt.

"He'll be alright, Mr. Crane. This gentleman will be fine thanks to you. Did you get a good look at the man who was here?" A faraway voice said.

"Naw, just a sort of a shadow. I'll talk to the sheriff in the morning though. I'm sure he'll have some questions for this ol' boy here too." Another voice. Another faraway voice. So familiar… "Thanks again, Doc."

"Just doing my job, Mr. Crane. Goodnight to you." A door opened and then closed.

Jim opened his eyes and blinked a few times waiting for things to come back into focus. "Really, Jim. I tell you, you wouldn't last one day with out me to babysit you. Not one day!" The voice no longer held the cowboy drawl anymore. "How do you feel?"

His eyes finally focused and he found himself lying on the bed in his hotel room. "Like I was run over by a stagecoach and then it backed up and ran over me again." Before Artie could stop him, Jim pulled himself up to a sitting position in the bed and leaned back against the pillow. "Oh, my head…" He groaned, clutching his head with his hands and closing his eyes.

"Oh, is _that_ what that is? My, I thought it was something that went through a winepress. I almost got two glasses and a bottle for us." The voice was rimmed with light sarcasm. "But, really, Jim. I don't think your dance card will be getting filled anytime soon."

Jim turned to the man at his bedside. "You know, Artie, if I didn't know your voice so well, I'd never have recognized you."

Artemus bowed slightly at the waist. "Why, thank you, James!" His disguise was that of a drifting cowboy looking for work. He had used some putty from his makeup kit to fashion his nose to looked as if it had been broken sometime in the past. His left eye had a scar over it, distorting its normal figure; His clothes were dusty and were that of the average cowboy. A drooping, black mustache, also from his vast kit, adorned his upper lip. "Who was that mug who was here? Friend of yours?"

"I don't know." Jim admitted. "I was about to open a note I found outside my door, when he tried to club me with a blackjack. I guess he came through the window."

Artie clucked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. You must be slipping, pal." He stuck a hand in his jacket pocket and produced the note. "Here. I read it while you were out."

Artemus saw his partner's jaw tighten as his eyes read the note. They had both received threats warning them to lay off in the past. He knew what Jim's unspoken answer was. Jim handed the note to Artie. "You better take this back to the train on your next trip. We might need to analyze the handwriting later on."

"Right." Artemus took the note and put it back in his pocket.

Jim sank back into the pillows and sighed. "I feigned passing out, hoping he'd think I was out, but he didn't. Thanks for showing up when you did, Artie." Jim looked over at his partner.

Artie raised his hands and looked down shaking his head, then smiled. "That's what I'm here for. Maybe I oughta advertise, you think?" He lifted his hands as if outlining a box of words. " 'Artemus Gordon: Your #1 Choice Bodyguard and Babysitter'. " His brown eyes twinkled mischievously. "You get some rest, Jim. I'm gonna go locate Marshal Godfrey." The two agents said goodbye, and Jim recalled what the note had said. Who could know James West was in town? So far the only people, that Jim was aware of, was Sheriff Cooper and Marshal Godfrey. Had someone with a grudge against James West recognized him? And what was the secret in the canyons that was so important that someone wanted James West dead? Whatever it was, whoever it was; no matter how long it might take, no matter how many threats were received, James West and Artemus Gordon would stick on the job. _At least we've got them worried, otherwise they wouldn't have made a try for me tonight._

The next morning, Jim got dressed and left his room. Artie had come back the night before to tell Jim where Marshal Godfrey was staying and what time they would meet the lawman. Jim, still feeling rather sore from his encounter with the stranger, made his way downstairs and left his key with the hotel clerk.

"I probably won't be back until tonight, clerk." Jim said, handing the key to the clerk.

"Gibbins."

"What?"

"My name is Gibbins, sir. Franklin Gibbins. We lock up the front doors at 10."

"I should be back by then, Mr. Gibbins. Thank you, now if you'll excuse me, I have an important engagement in a little while, and I'd like to get some breakfast before then."

Jim turned to go but the clerk's voice stopped him. "Oh, sir? Mr. West? One more thing."

"Yes?"

"You didn't get any blood on the furnishings in your room, did you? Blood stains are pure murder to get to come up! Murder, I tell you!"

James West took a seat near the window inside Millie Smythe's Refined Casual Diner, and surveyed the menu. The diner, whose name seemed like the only thing that was 'refined', was a grimy, poorly maintained establishment and Jim thought he saw a cockroach scurry behind one of the tattered lace curtains when he had come in. It was early yet and there were only a few patrons inside. Most of the chairs looked as if they had been patched up more than once and a pile of broken chair legs and splintered wood lay in the far corner, indicating where the irreparables were thrown aside.

_But this is where the marshal and Artie wanna meet so I might as well grab some breakfast,_ Jim sighed. _I've seen worse, I guess._ He finally decided on the Tuesday special. _The Trusty Two-Bit Toledo Omelet. This should be an experience._ _Huh, How bout this? 'Monday's special: The Mountain of Monstrous Mashed Potatoes.' Wait until, Artie see this menu._

He called the waitress over and gave her his order. She sighed and shook her head as she wrote down his order. _Surely it can't be that bad!_ _I wonder… He was about to call her back and ask what she might suggest, when a voice called his name. "Mr. West!" Jim looked up from his menu. Several booths away in the doorway stood a familiar figure._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Well, Mushy! Come over here and sit down." Jim smiled and motioned for the cook's louse to sit down in the seat across from him.

"Thank you, Mr. West. I wanna thank you and Mr. Gordon again for takin' care of Rowdy." Mushy slid into the chair across from Jim and pulled off his kepi.

Jim shrugged. "What brings you to town?"

"Mr. Favor, he's my boss you met, he wanted me to ask you when Rowdy'll be okay to move on." Mushy said, repeating Gil Favor's question that he had sent Mushy in to ask while Favor went back to the herd.

"I don't know. But I'm sure there's a doctor somewhere in town. Artie was supposed to find one yesterday and send him out to the train. But he, eh, got sidetracked." Jim answered, rubbing his still slightly aching head and remembering his encounter with the stranger the night before.

Mushy smiled and shrugged. "That's alright, Mr. West. You've done a lot for us already; I can go find the doctor. How's your case goin'? I'd be glad to help if I can." Mushy said eagerly.

Jim turned to look back at the entrance to the diner, then turned back to Mushy. "My associate, Mr. Gordon, and the marshal are supposed to meet me here soon. I'm not permitted to give out too many details about the case but I'll let you know if we need any help, Mush."

Mushy's face became serious and he nodded gravely. "I understand, Mr. West. But you know where to find me if you do need me." Mushy got up from his seat and put his kepi back on. "I better find that doc and get on back to Mr. Favor."

Jim got up and shook Mushy's hand. "It was good seeing you again. Good luck with your friend Rowdy."

"Thank you. Tell Mr. Gordon I said hello!" Mushy waved and smiled; then left. Jim watched out the window as the young man mounted up on a sleepy-looking bay gelding and ride down the street.

Jim laid his black hat on the table and sighed, looking around the diner. The few customers that occupied the room were casting glances at him now and then, Jim noticed. _Where's that waitress?_ Just as the thought crossed his mind, the waitress came through the swinging doors at the back of the room with a couple of platters in her hands. She carefully balanced them and put one on the table of a man who had been taking a keen interest in the agent sitting at the window. Jim watched as the man grabbed the girl's wrist and whisper something to her; Jim saw him slip something into her hand as well. She nodded and set down the other platter on the table too. The man cast another glance Jim's way and then the girl turned so that her back was to Jim and the platter was out of view. After a second or two, the waitress picked the platter up again and started toward Jim's table. The man nodded to her before she turned. "Thank you, my dear. I think I _will_ order one of those omelets as well." He said loudly. _A little too loud, _Jim thought suspiciously. _That man already has the same order as I do!_

The waitress set the plate and glass of water from the platter down on Jim's table. "Here ya go, mister. Today's special."

Jim smiled up at her charmingly. "Thank you, miss." The waitress shrugged and started to go; Jim stopped her. "Uh, miss? May I ask who that gentleman is sitting over there? His face is awfully familiar and I thought he might be an old friend." Jim lied.

"That's Mr. Parley. He owns a hotel and the mercantile here in town and he's got the biggest ranch for 80 miles 'round these parts. Now if you'll excuse me, I got more customers to wait on." She left the dining room once again and went through the swinging doors at the back.

Jim, greatly aware of the attention of the other five rough-looking customers, picked up his glass and took a small sip of the liquid. A bitter taste met his taste buds. _Drugged! _He recognized the same taste from a past instance when he had been drugged. Artie had informed Jim of just about every single poison and drug known to the world, and even a few gases invented by himself. Jim set the glass down for a moment, thinking. _This could be the break we need… But I've got to go about this right without drawing any suspicion. _Seeing a young boy leaving with a lady who appeared to be the boy's grandmother, Jim called him over and pulled a key out of his inside pocket. "I wonder if you could deliver this key to a friend of mine. He seems to have left it when he was here earlier."

"Sure thing, mister." The boy started to reach for the key but Jim held it back.

"Wait a minute." Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper and pencil. "Let me just write a note to him telling him he left it here. His name is Mushy and he'll be wearing a gray kepi. If you hurry, you should catch him at the doctor's office. Tell him it's vital and he should see about a partner. He'll know what you mean." Jim scrawled a quick note on the paper and wrapped the key in it. "Alright, here you go. And here's a quarter for your trouble." Jim winked at the little boy.

"Gosh, thanks!" The boy smiled and ran outside to catch up with his grandmother.

Jim smiled at the thugs and Mr. Parley who were the only ones left in the diner. "Cute kid." Their faces remained emotionless as they watched him. _Well, here goes!_ Jim knew if he were to drink the whole glass of the drugged water he could be out for 3 hours at the most; but if he took only a few swallows for show and acted out the rest…

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the glass to his lips. A crash sounded from the back of the diner. Several yells followed and a sound like dishes being thrown and crashing against the wall followed. _What a break!_ Jim thought as the henchmen and Mr. Parley's head turned toward the sounds. Jim quickly dumped the remaining liquid in his glass out of sight. Just as he finished dumping it, the red-headed waitress stalked out from the back room and out of the building. A man who appeared to be the cook followed close on her heels. "Please, Meg! I can't cook and wait on 'em at the same time! You can't quit! Look, I'm sorry I called you a hussy, really I am! Aw, please, Meg…" The voice trailed off as they left the building.

Jim waited for the right moment and then began his act. The glass he had been holding crashed to the floor of the establishment and he got shakily to his feet. He swayed slightly then grabbed for the table edge before coming to his knees on the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three of the henchman coming towards him. He purposely struggled very little as two of them picked him up by his arms and the other came up behind him. Jim let himself go limp as Parley with the other two thugs close on his heels walked up to them. "I'm disappointed in you, Mr. West. You have a very great reputation of your fighting ability, your cunning and your stamina." Parley said, sounding disappointed. He nodded to the man behind Jim. Before Jim had time to react, a gun butt slammed into the back of his head and everything went black. One of the men behind Parley brought a small flask out of his vest pocket. He quickly sprinkled Jim with the alcoholic liquid from the flask and then set it on the table where Jim had been sitting earlier.

Several moments after the agent was hit over the head and the two henchman proceeded to drag him out, the cook walked him rubbing his brow. He stopped for a moment at the door and his eyes slid toward the unconscious man being held up by the shoulders. He looked to Parley with a question in his eyes. "What happened to him?"

"Oh, I'm afraid he couldn't hold his liquor. But me and my boys'll take care of him and see that he sobers up." Parley said smoothly.

The cook nodded distractedly glancing out the door again where Meg the waitress had disappeared. "Well, you see that he don't get drunk in here again, Mr. Parley. This is a respectable business." The cook stalked off to the kitchen.

Parley nodded his men toward the door and looked at West. "Get him out of here and see that nobody follows you."

*W*W*W*

A young boy waved to his grandmother before dashing off towards the Doc Bradley's office. He raced down the boardwalk and slid to a stop when he reached the office. A sign hanging in the door read, _Will be back at 1._ The boy scratched his head and looked around. His eyes lit up when he saw the doctor about to leave with a young man wearing a gray kepi. They were just trotting their horses out of town when the boy finally caught up with them. "Hey, wait! Wait, Doc Bradley!" The boy yelled as the two riders pulled up their mounts.

"Why, if it isn't young Willy, what do you want, boy? It isn't your grandma, is it?" Doc Bradley asked with concern.

The boy bent over at the waist and rested his hands on his knees, huffing and puffing. He shook his head. "Naw, she's fine. But I got a message for you, mister." Willy said to Mushy. He dug into his trouser pocket and brought out something small wrapped in a piece of paper and handed it up to Mushy.

"Thanks." Mushy mumbled. "Who's it from?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know his name but he sure was dressed swell. He asked me to deliver it to you and to tell you it was vital and that you should see about a partner. You make a gold strike or somethin', mister?"

Mushy's eyes lit up as his mind registered the message's meaning. He looked back down at the boy. "Huh? Oh, no, just sort of a...uh…a private joke." He turned back to the doctor. "Listen, Doctor Bradley, can you find the train yourself? I need to see about somethin' back in town."

"Sure, Mushy. You see me back at my office later and I'll give you a full report on your friend's condition." Doctor Bradley spurred his horse forward and rode away from Mushy and the boy who had delivered the message and the key.

Willy looked rather disappointed. "Gosh, I thought that fella had found gold or somethin'. The way he musta celebrated." He shook his head and clucked his tongue, something he had picked up from his grandmother. "You know it took two men to carry him outta that joint 'cause he was so drunk he passed out or somethin' they said."

"What?" Mushy said with some alarm. "All Mr. West ordered was a glass of water and an omelet. I heard him order."

Willy shrugged again. "Well, that water must've been loaded to the hilt."

Mushy bit his lip and chewed it thoughtfully. "Can you describe the men who…eh…_helped_ Mr. West out of the place?"

Willy shook his head. "Nope, didn't recognize any of 'em except Mr. Parley. He owns the hotel and the mercantile, and he's got a big ranch a couple of miles out of town and near those haunted canyons."

Mushy's eyes grew wide. "Haunted?"

Willy nodded. "Sure! Folks around here say a troop of Cavalrymen were ambushed in them canyons by Commancheros and now the soldiers' ghosts haunt the canyons lookin' for the man who betrayed 'em." Wily gave an emphatic nod as he ended his short tale.

"Well, uh, thanks for the message, Willy." Mushy thanked the boy. After Willy was gone, Mushy unfolded the note and read it again.

'_Tell Artemus I've picked up on lead. Dangerous. May need back-up. Mr. Parley involved somehow. Urgent.' _Mushy folded the note back up and stuck it into his shirt pocket. With a thousand thoughts whirling around in his mind, he turned his horse back to town to look for Artemus Gordon.

_A/N: I know the ending isn't too great on this chapter but I was a bit distracted when I did the last part. I'll try to make the next one more exciting. ;)_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

(A/N: I am really, REALLY sorry it's taken me so long to update this story! But I'm going to try to get it finished in a couple of weeks. There shouldn't be but a few more chapters left for me to do.)

"What's the boss want with the federal man anyway?"

"Dunno."

"You reckon we're gonna have to kill 'im?"

"Dunno."

"I'm getting' tired of all this killin' an' stuff."

"Yep. I raise you ten dollars."

This was the conversation that Jim West woke to. He found himself lying on a crude cot in what he assumed to be a cavern long ago carved into the side of a tunnel wall. His head still ached from the blow he had received back at the diner. He turned over on his side slowly and quietly so as not to draw attention from his two guards. _I hope Mushy got that note to Artie,_ he found himself thinking. He had no idea who he was up against here and having Artie watching his back could mean a lot.

The "entrance" to the cavern was blocked by a door made of steel bars. On the other side of the door were the two guards; both sitting on wooden crates on either side of a short, square table on which they were playing poker. Both men were rather thin but fit. The first thing Jim noticed about the first guard was his large, prominent ears; they stuck out and his thick brown hair followed suit, sticking out in every which way. The second guard seem more reserved while his brown-haired friend did most of the chatter throughout the game.

Jim rose from his cot and quietly made his way next to the door. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, and looked over the second guard's cards. The second guard started to reach for a card.

"Uh-uh-uh, not that one," Jim stopped him.

The second guard looked over his shoulder, "Oh, yeah, thanks." Then noticing that he was speaking to the prisoner, surprised, he jumped up and in the process dropped his cards and hit the table with his knee scattering the other cards.

The first guard threw down his cards and rubbed his brow. He sighed in quiet exasperation. "Sorry Mick hit ya so hard, Mr. West," he apologized for the absent henchman who had slugged Jim.

"I've had worse."

The first guard turned to the guard with the large ears. "You think oughta be goin' an' tellin' the boss he's awake?" The first guard asked jerking a thumb in Jim's direction.

"Huh? Oh yeah! Yeah! I'll be right back," he glanced at Jim. "You better keep alert, Tyler. You know how the boss said he's real slippery." Then he was gone.

The guard named Tyler straightened out the table and two crates, then he picked up the cards and started gathering them up. "I've heard a lot 'bout you, Mr. West. It's a real pleasure to finally meet you. I'm right sorry about the conditions though," he apologized. Jim was surprised at how sincere - and was that a touch of sorrow in his voice? - the guard sounded.

Jim shrugged and leaned against the bars. "So am I." Jim tilted his head to look down the tunnel corridor. "Where is this place?" He had a notion it was somewhere in the canyons that the sheriff had told him about but he asked anyway.

Tyler said nothing for a moment as if contemplating whether he should tell or not. "I don't reckon I oughta be tellin' you that, Mr. West. I could get in trouble," he finally said.

"Yeah, I kinda thought so. Would you mind me asking who the boss is?"

"Nope, but I probably shouldn't tell you that neither. Boss'll let you know when he's ready I s'pose."

Jim sighed. All he could do was wait. He had to know who was behind all of this. He only hoped that Mushy had been able to get through to Artie.

*W*W*W*

"Mr. Gord-", Mushy stopped in mid-yell, remembering that Artemus was wearing a disguise and might be using an alias as well. "I mean, uh…hey, you!" He ran down the boardwalk after Artemus, waving the note in the air.

Artemus turned around as he heard the familiar voice of Mushy. Sensing the urgency in the young man's voice, he waited for Mushy to reach him and then ushered him into the hotel where he had his room. When they reached Artie's room, Artemus locked the door behind them.

Mushy spoke first. "Mr. Gordon, I think somethin' bad's happened to Mr. West. Here." He quickly handed the note to Artemus. Mushy watched as Artemus' eyes glanced over the note.

"What makes you think Jim's in trouble?" Artie did have to admit he was worried when Jim hadn't shown up at the diner where they were supposed to meet with Marshall Godfrey. Artie had waited for a full hour without meeting Jim or the marshal.

"Well, sir, the boy who brung me the note he said that Mr. West was being taken out of the diner like he musta been drunk or somethin'. But I know he couldn't have been drunk 'cause I heard him order and he drank water is all. And the boy said he recognized Mr. Parley with them," Mushy said quickly.

"I see…"Artie paused thoughtfully. "Mushy, how would you like to do a real service for your country?"

Mushy's eyes widened and his mouth began widen in a smile. "Yes sir, Mr. Gordon! What do you want me to do?"

"Well, this could prove to be very dangerous, so it's purely on a voluntary basis."

"Yes, sir."

"If you're willing and you understand the risks involved, I will hereby appoint you as…eh…let's say, a temporary Secret Service operative."

A few minutes later, after bringing Mushy back out of his fainting spell, Artemus and Mushy left the hotel building; Mushy carrying a small badge in his shirt pocket.

*W*W*W*

Ever since his talk with Favor the day before, Rowdy hadn't been able to keep Helena off his mind. Ever since he had left home and become a drover, he had always been able to turn his mind to other things; for instance, his work, friends, and the occasional mishap on the trail. It had never been easy but he had done it. But now he couldn't turn his thoughts. Partially because of the talk with his boss…and partially because he was bored out of his mind.

The doctor that Mushy had sent had been by earlier but had only stayed for a few minutes. Now that he was gone the private car was deafeningly quiet. Rowdy shook his head. He wasn't used to it being so quiet. Out on the trail or with the herd there was always the constant lowing of the cattle, the whoops and hollers of the other drovers, and Wishbone's endless nagging.

Rowdy sighed and pushed himself to a sitting position on the sofa. His ribs still ached and according to the doctor all he had to do was take it easy for several days before he could do some easy riding. _It'll feel mighty good to be back on Fox again,_ he thought. _Mighty good._

He got up walked over to the back door of the railroad car. _Sure is a nice day for a ride…_After thinking for a moment, he pulled open the door and stepped out. He sucked in a deep breath of the prairie air and leaned on the rail.

Again though, he found himself thinking about Helena, the girl he had left behind. Or rather the girl who had left _him, _he thought bitterly. Thinking about her still saddened him, and he often had mixed feelings about her now, but he hoped wherever she was, that she was happy. That was all he cared about.

*W*W*W*

"But, Tyler, I don't _care_ about the money! I just want _you_! Can't you please just understand that? Just _you!" The young woman pleaded with the man who stood in front of her._

"_Have you given any thought of what I may want for you?" He questioned. The woman's mouth opened to protest once more, but Tyler held up his hand. "Just let me finish. I've seen how you admire those dresses in the shop windows. And I've heard how all them ol' biddies in town gossip away about you," he paused. I want you to have all those nice things. I want to build us a home that we can be proud of. I want- I just want to give you all them things you've only ever dreamed about."_

"_Oh, Tyler, you don't-"_

"_-I ain't finished yet. I know your daddy never rightly approved of me, and sometimes I reckon he may be right; I've tried hard to please him, but even the niece of the mayor deserves better than what I'm givin' you."_

_The dark interior of the tunnel hid their faces and the feeble lantern light didn't help much. If there had been just a small amount more of light, she would have seen the tears glistening in her husband's eyes. He was tough and had endured many hardships in his young life, and if there was anything he never did was cry. She had never even seen so much as a glimmer of tears before._

"_You'd better go now," he said in the darkness._

_Reluctantly, she nodded. "Alright. But please think about what I said, Tyler," she pleaded before walking away._

"_It's too late for me to back out now," he said as he watched her go, regret tingeing his voice. "Goodbye, Helena."_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

After the other guard came back with word that the boss wanted to see Jim, Tyler left the agent in the hands of the other guard. The guard tied a blindfold over Jim's eyes before leading him down the twisting corridor. Jim tried to memorize the turns but by the time they reached their destination he was so dizzy he couldn't remember any of them. His guard had also spun him around a couple of times.

The guard removed the blindfold. Jim blinked several times trying to adjust his eyes to the new light. He was amazed at the furnishings and the elegance of the room. Definitely not what one would expect to find in a canyon's tunnels. A large beautifully made rug lay stretched out on the floor, covering nearly the whole room. In the center of the room was a heavy-looking wooden desk. Behind the desk there was a very elegant cushioned chair; in front of it, were two more chairs, less extravagant-looking than the one behind the desk. Scattered along the walls and in the corners were priceless works of art and sculptures that Jim was sure Artie would have recognized right off.

"What a delight to finally meet you, Mr. West."

Jim's eyes came to rest on a tall, lean man standing in the doorway of another entrance to the room. "I see my reputation seems to have preceded me. Excuse my ignorance, but who are you?"

The tall man walked over, swinging his swagger cane, to the desk and sat down in the plush chair behind it. "Sit down, Mr. West," he motioned to another chair.

The guard behind Jim nudged his back with the muzzle of his .45. The tall man waved his hand dismissively. "We'll have none of that, Meyers. Mr. West is a guest and should be treated as such. You may be excused, Meyers."

"But, boss-"

"I'll have no insolence, Meyers. You're excused."

Meyers glanced reluctantly at Jim and then his boss. He put his gun away and left the room.

"Good help is hard to find, they say." Jim sat down in the chair.

The man nodded. "It is indeed."

"I'm not usually one to beat around the bush, so I'll ask you: where are the people you kidnapped?"

The tall man chuckled. "I should say you aren't, Mr. West. As for the people who are-eh, _in my custody, _shall we say, their well-being depends on you doing what I ask." He folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow in question.

"Oh? And what exactly is it that I have to do?"

"Mr. West…I want Texas."

*W*W*W*

"Mushy, look out!" Artemus yelled a warning.

Mushy looked up and pulled his horse's reins sharply to the left, nearly colliding with Artie's mount. The horses squealed and the dust began to settle.

"Mushy, son, I know you're excited to be a temporary recruit but maybe it'd be best if you put the badge back in your pocket, huh?"

"Oh sure, Mr. Gordon." Mushy stuffed the badge he'd been staring at back into his pocket.

"That would've been a mighty long fall there. You know what they say, 'keep your hands on the reins and your eyes on the trail.' Oh, and no drinking while riding."

"Is that what they say?"

Artie didn't answer but instead put a finger to his lips and pointed. Mushy's eyes followed to where Artie was pointing. Down below them in the canyon, there was a lone figure walking away from one of the caves and heading to a horse that was tied nearby the cave entrance.

"Who do you reckon that is?" Mushy whispered.

Artie shook his head and continued watching. They watched until the figure had mounted up and was riding down the canyon toward the only exit and entrance.

"Come on, let's follow and see who it is," Artie told Mushy. They turned their horses around and cantered them to where the other rider was going.

*W*W*W*

"You want the state of Texas." It was more a statement than a question. _Looks like we've got another Loveless on our hands,_ Jim thought dryly.

The man nodded. "Yes. And the reason why I had that lawyer fellow kidnapped is because I knew the Government would send their best men to handle the case. I happen to know that you were both free at the time." Jim wondered how he could know such a thing. They had only just finished a case when Col. Richmond had sent them on this mission. "I want _you_ to tell your friend, Mr. Gordon, to make the necessary arrangements. Meanwhile you will also be staying here as my guest." Then his almost black eyes turned cold and harsh. "If the government refuses to comply to my request, they will lose two valuable agents…_and_ the entire Texas populace."

_He's mad! _Jim had to bite his tongue to keep the phrase from rolling off his tongue. He didn't want to anger this man. He needed to bide his time until the right moment.

The man took Jim's silence as incredulousness. "Oh believe me, Mr. West, I _can_ do it. And I _will do it, if I don't get what I want." He paused for effect. "Think about it." Then he rose from his seat. "Meyers!" The guard came inside and stood, awaiting further orders. "Take Mr. West back to his cell." - he turned back to Jim again - "You have until tonight to decide if you will give Mr. Gordon my instructions."_

_After leaving the man with the high demand, the guard called Meyers shoved Jim roughly into the dark cell and turned the lock. He sneered at Jim. "Guess your pard ain't comin' to bust you out, huh, West? I heard you two was always pretty close." With that he left Jim alone. He took the lantern with him leaving Jim's cell and the tunnel outside in darkness._

_*W*W*W*_

"_Oh please, Mr. Gordon! Can I say it, huh?" Mushy pleaded with Artie._

"_Oh, alright!" Artie whispered back. He sure had to credit Mushy for being enthusiastic._

_Pretty soon they heard the sound of approaching hoof beats. Artie and Mushy quickly blocked the trail, their guns already drawn._

"_Halt in the name of U. S. government!" Mushy shouted._


End file.
